How I Met Your Lab Tech
by His Little LabRat
Summary: How Nick really first met the DNA guru, Greg Sanders But Nick doesn’t really know that . NickGreg friendship, preslash, slash, blah blah blah!
1. Chapter 1

**Author: His Little LabRat**

**Story: How I Met Your Lab Tech**

**Chapter: Back In the Day – Part One (Chapter 1)**

**Summary: How Nick really first met the DNA guru, Greg Sanders (But Nick doesn't really know that). (NickGreg friendship, preslash, slash, blah blah blah!)**

**Author's Notes: I really have no fragging idea (yes, I am a die-hard Transformers fan, woot) how in the name of… PRIMUS (more Transformers, because I am not Christian or anything… no religion) (Don't kill me! -cowers-) I came up with this story… but I like it. And, I hope you do! **

**Author's second note…? **_**When writing this story, I was listening to "Who Let You Go" by the Killers (the ENTIRE TIME!) and I think they are a great band, so, I am giving them credit with help for my story! I THANK THE KILLERS! (Wait, that came out wrong… pun – if there is one – not intended!)**__** At the end, however, I started listening to "I Love You To Death" by Family Force Five, so yeah… I give them credit too.**_

**June 1****7****th****, 1988**** 2:13 AM – Dallas, Texas**

My name is Nick Stokes. I am seventeen, a senior in high school. No, wait… I am now a freshman in college, giving it's the summer. It's just a little past the middle of June, almost two after midnight.

I am walking at two in the morning, walking along the sidewalk, gazing at the little huddle of trees beside me that goes on for as far as I can see over the hill I am coming up. Cars pass by me rarely, and I am half-blinded by their always-white headlights that zoom past at the speed limit of twenty-five miles an hour. It's surprisingly cold out tonight, giving it is June down here in Texas, where I live.

I am wearing a black hoodie, the sleeves cut off so that I feel almost punk, hood resting down my back, zipper in the middle, zipped up so it's tight-fit. A pair of navy blue jeans, little stitches and patches here and there, tears over the knees that I have yet to fix up. Short black hair that is parted over to the left, curling over my forehead… now, thinking about it, I wonder if I am invisible in the pitch of night, wondering if the drivers of the cars that pass me by occasionally can see me. Probably not, but it doesn't matter to me, really.

I like it at night. It's tranquil, almost… to me, at least. Silence settles in, cold runs chills up and down your back, giving goose bumps on your arms. I'm not scared that easily really. In fact, I like the feeling it gives you. Makes me laugh a little. Besides, at night, it's cool (unlike the day), and you aren't blinded entirely by the sun, only by the headlights on the cars that haven't passed in a while. Giving it's two after midnight, I don't expect anyone too though, almost glad that they aren't.

Well, at the top of the hill now, almost recapping my life. I am starting down the hill.

I can see a car, I think it's a Jeep… or maybe an SUV, - I can't tell from my distance. Still walking when a kid is literally _kicked_ out of the backseat and rolls into the dirt. I stop, ducking behind a tree, hearing a scream from inside the car.

"… Out!" I hear the person yell, but I missed the first part of the sentence from my distance and cover. "Or I'll beat you to a pulp, kid!" They yelled again.

"Beat it, twerp!" Another yelled, and now I guessed there were at least three or four people in the car, seeing the driver hadn't talked yet, but the passenger did. The kid is bent over, coughing up something. I think it's… _blood_. "You're not useful to us anymore now that we have what we came for!" Now, I am glad I am behind a tree as a tall man steps out from the backseat to jump out and _kick_ the kid so hard he is slammed against a tree, coughing up more… blood. The man steps back into the car and I duck down to avoid being seen as the men race off in my direction, but continue down the road until they disappear over the hill.

I turn, bolting straight over to the kid.

He's crying bullets, blood trickling down his cheeks like his tears.

He's a cute kid… aside from the blood. He's even cute while he's crying… which is awkward. Deep blond, sandy hair that is spiked up, shaved on the sides to keep the volume. But now, the spikes are drooping as the tears fall onto his hair. He's _upside down_, I notice as I am about ten feet away. Thin, lean, looks about fourteen. Way too young to be out this late at night… then again, I am too. Then again, _everyone_ is… but that is absolutely beside the point.

The kid rolls over and curls up into a ball as I am now five feet away. I am running over now, slowing down though as I notice he can't hear any of my calls over his loud sobs. He seems lost somehow, like he is far from home, far from his parents, far from anyone he knows.

Standing over him, I lean over to touch him. He jolts alive, backing away from me with panicking screams that I read as "Don't hurt me! Don't kill me! Please, mercy, mercy! Dear god, don't kill me!" I am standing in the same position, the kid now backed up against a tree, begging, sobbing for mercy. His eyes are pressed shut and he seems tense, like he is ready to brace himself for a brutal beating. He is still begging for mercy, only about two feet away from me. I take a step towards him, kneeling down to touch his knee cap. He jolts back at the touch, screaming and sobbing "Don't hurt me, please! Mercy!" His eyes are still pressed shut. His hics and sobs calm now and he opens his eyes slowly, shaking his head in trembles to look at me, obviously scared out of his mind. He is still crying, the tears still mingling with the blood on his lips.

"Hey, kiddo…" I say, cooing to him softly, whisper little shh's to him, telling him its okay. "It's okay, kiddo; it'll be alright… everything is okay now…" I am cut off from my coos when he jolts forward, lapsing his arms over me so fast that I am pressed backward onto my back, him on top of me. I brace myself for impact, but I was too late and I groan a little, silenced from his sobs onto my shoulder.

He is light-weight, and I can feel his ribs. He feels like he hasn't eaten in a while, like he was starved. My hands are at my sides and I wrapped them around him, shaking a little, still a bit startled from this situation. I rub his back like friends would do, and his sobs become less and less until I only know he is crying because of the tears I still feel falling down into my shirt, plopping down on my chest underneath my hoodie-shirt. I sit up slowly and he pulls up with me. He sits between my legs and I smile gently at him, arms at my side again. God damn, is he cute.

I lift my right arm, smiling softly at him still, putting my hand to his cheek, holding it softly. He has silk for skin, smooth and soft. I use my thumb to wipe away a tear from he eye. "It's okay, kiddo," I coo to him. "Everything'll be alright…" I coo still, giving him little shh's and okay's. I can see him shaking – it's a shake that shows their almost emanate doom, like they were kidnapped or something.

After what seems like forever later he sits calm between my legs. Tears have stopped, hics and sobs, et cetera. He's quiet and smiles kindly at me.

"Now tell me, kiddo," I say to him calmly, still giving a little coo to him to keep him calm. Dear God, he is cute. "What's your name?"

"G-Greg…" he manages to hic up, giving me a little, shy smile like I had; a friendly, cute one. "My n-name is… Greg S-Sanders…" he whispers again, smiling, obviously trying to calm himself again.

"I'm Nick – Nick Stokes. Okay, Greggo," I say, cooing him with a little nickname I conjured up instantly. He smiles at the little name and takes a deep breath before I start again. "What happened to you?" I can still see him giving little shivers occasionally, lips blood red as the blood trickles from them. He jolts after a while into a twitch, then settles again, looking down, eyes pressed shut. I know he doesn't want to talk about it, because I can relate… "Never mind, I'll just ask you again later." I say, giving a gentle laugh.

"Later," he copies, blinking.

"Well, do you known anyone that lives nearby?" He shakes his head. "Do you… have anywhere to stay?" He shakes his head again. I purse my lips, thinking. "Where do you live, Greg?" I ask and he has to think about it.

"California, in Los Angeles," he stuttered out and I practically fell over, but my elbows pushed me back up to my hands. I cough a little, shocked.

"Do you know where you are?" I ask him, needing to know.

"Texas," he answers, still stuttering, scared still. "R-right?"

"Yeah," I answer. "We're in Texas. Do you know _where_ in Texas?" He has to think, but then shakes his head. I sigh softly, thinking o what to do. He knows we're in Texas, but he doesn't know anyone, so I can't just leave him here…

"C-can… I stay with y-you?" He mumbles out.

"You've got nowhere to go, right?" I ask him and he shakes his head, affirming my question. I release my breath slowly, almost in a sigh. "Look's like you will hav'ta."

* * *

I walk up to my house, standing in my driveway, Greg still caught at my side. I sigh softly to myself and continue up to my front door. I turn out a key as Greg studies the house, blinking gently as he intakes the ranch style. I open the door slowly, looking into the room to my right. I step in, Greg followed behind me. I walk slowly into the room after slipping off my shoes, Greg follow me still. I realize as Greg steps along, that he isn't wearing shoes. I think of how bad his feet must hurt and I almost wince. I step forward to a chair, leaning around it to my sister. She looks at me, a little smile on her face as she looks at me.

"Hey, Meg," I say, smiling softly. "I uh… brought a friend…" I say and she leans over to look to where I am, following my gaze to the blond-haired boy. He is looking around the room, seeming to take in almost every detail. He's faced away, but when he feels our gaze, he turns around to smile at me, then looks to my mom with a more gentle smile.

"Hello, Mrs. Stokes," he says politely, almost giving a bow. After what he had been through, I'd thought he'd be too petrified to do anything.

"Hello," she says back, smiling kindly at him. "I hear you are a friend of my brother," she says, giving a kind laugh. "I am Megan, but you may call me Meg. I am Nick's sister. What might your name be?"

"Greg," Greg says to her. "Greg Sanders."

"Pleasure to meet you, Greg," she smiles kindly to him. Then, she gives him a more spectacle look. "How old might you be, Greg?"

"Pleasures' mine," he says. "And I am fourteen years old," he adds in answer, gazing around the room again. I smile, almost laughing at him.

"Fourteen, hmm?" She asks, giving me a little nudge as Greg smiled back at me. "How did you meet little Nicky?"

"I'm not little, Meg," I had to say.

"You may not be real little anymore," Meg said with a keen laugh at me. "But you are _still_ my little brother, Nicky," she gives what sounded like a giggly laugh. I snicker back to her and Greg smiles sweetly. Then, Meg turns back to Greg. He's smiling still, looking around the room.

"Well, we just met," Greg said, and I can still sense a bit of a stutter in his voice. He's looking at something on a shelf on a bookcase across from him and he walks over to it. "What's this?" Greg asks, turning away from the bookcase to look at Meg and I.

"That's a ship in a bottle," Meg answers for me. I give a little laugh, seeing how he completely ignored her question. Usually, Meg would tell you if you're ignoring her question, even to people she just met. But, she didn't because Greg spoke up again as he turned away from us to the bookshelf.

"Interesting," he said.

"Nick made it a few years back," Meg said, now preaching to him about my teenage life – ode to joy…

"Awesome," Greg says, turning to smile at me, hands in his hoodie pockets. I just noticed he was wearing a shirt that was a whitish color, a waving British flag on it with words I couldn't read because they were covered by the side of his hoodie. It was tight fit, like his pants. Typically, they were jeans, but they were tight fit too… navy, like mine, with splotches of tears and blood on them that made spatters that didn't seem to fit the pattern of them at all. Still, he wasn't wearing shoes, or socks, just plain and straight up barefoot.

"Well…" Meg says, rolling up her left sleeve to check the time. "I'd better set off for bed," she says, then turns to us. "You two better do the same. Sorry, Greg, but… you'll have to sleep with Nick tonight, if you are staying. Our spare room is full with my other brother." She gave a little laugh when Greg nodded gently with a soft smile.

"I am good with that," Greg says, then turns to me. "That okay with you, Nicky?" I smile at the nickname, softly, more to myself than him.

"Yeah," I say. "The bed's big for the two of us." I give a nod and Meg stands up, brushing off her pajama bottoms with a gentle nod of goodnight to the two of us. Greg nods back and I give a little half-wave. I turn back to the blond. "Alright G, we better go to bed too." I actually feel like Greg _is_ my friend, instead of some stranger who was chucked out of a car and beaten to a pulp in front of me. Greg nodded, smiling softly to me, following me again as I went up the stairs.

* * *

Laying in bed now. I am closest to the wall, Greg across from me, closer to the door. He is so cute, and I'm just staring at him. He has girlish features. Red lips (we wiped off the blood before coming home, thank God), girly eyes, a great figure, everything more like that of a girl than a guy. His eyes are closed, but they open as I watch. He blinks at me slowly, giving a little smile. 

"Nick…" he whispers to me and I blink at him, looking at his chocolate green eyes. "How am I going to get home?"

I am silent at first, thinking. "Well, I don't really know, Greg," I whisper to him, and what I say is about the truth. "G, how _did_ you get here?" He still had yet to tell me his story.

"It's a long story…" he says, blinking and looking down, probably recapping on what happened.

"I've got all night," I say, giving a little, friendly smile. "Well… giving it's three in the morning, all morning, I guess…" I smile, giving a little laugh like he does.

Greg licked his lips. "Well, my grandparents are like… rich, okay?" He whispers to me.

"What's that have to do with you getting home and how you got here?" I ask. I think I'm being stubborn, but I am stubborn and curious by nature…

"Just listen okay?" I nod at him and then he continues. "Well, my grandparents are rich. My parents, I live in California with them, brought me to my grandparents… a week ago, I don't know, I was never good at keeping track of time… anyway, I was at my grandparents' having a jolly good time." He was sarcastic at the two words "jolly" and "good" and he suddenly sounded British for some reason. "Then, I was kidnapped like that," he snapped his fingers and I flinched at that and the thought. I settled back down and he continued after a brief pause. "I was with my kidnappers and blah," I really don't see how he can consider this "blah." At all. Oh well… "And my grandparents paid the stupid ransom, and they were "going to return my shortly afterword."

"They didn't," I noted, making sure I was correct. I was surprised at how well he could tell his story, like nothing was wrong.

"Yeah, I wasn't returned…" he paused. "Man, that makes me feel just like a piece of clothing from a clothing store or something, sheesh…" we laughed a little. I don't see how we could find it funny, but it was. "Anywho, I was probably, like, drugged or something…" he rolled his eyes. "Next thing I know, I'm sitting in your lap, crying like a little kid who lost his dog or something."

"I don't think I'd consider you "little" or a puppy at all," I say, blinking at him. He smiles and gives a little laugh to me. "Where do you grandparents live, anyways?"

"Texas." He gives a short pause, a really short pause. "Well, that's my lame story," Greg says, smiling sarcastically and rolling his eyes.

"Lame?" I ask, sitting up just a little to get a better view of him across from me. "How is that _lame?_ That must've been so fucking scary…" I didn't care if I swore, and he didn't seem to care either. He just shrugged.

"Eh," he rolled his eyes. I rolled my eyes too, then laid back down. He smiled at me and I wondered why. "It _was _scary, I have to admit, but I feel fine with you," at least, I think he said "with you." I don't really know, but I took it as a compliment and smiled. It was silent for a little while… then he spoke up again. "You know, you're a really cool guy," he said, smiling at me. "Has anyone ever told you that?"

I laugh at this, almost too hard. "Nope, never." I answer, giving a little laugh.

"I mean, you're _so_ cool," he informs me. "You're nice, helpful and…" he sticks out his tongue in a little frown, at a loss for words.

"I used to be a troublemaker," I laugh and he does too.

"You seem more brotherly than anything,"

"Maybe it's just you," I laugh.

"You think so?" Greg asks. I nod and stick out my tongue a little to give a little laughing wink. He laughs again. "I take that as a compliment," we laugh almost silently. "I love you."

I'm silent, thinking, wondering if he actually said that. "What?"

"What?" He asks, blinking at me.

"What did you say?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

"I didn't say anything," Greg says, glancing away, probably thinking or… he's looking at me with those eyes again. Those beautiful chocolate green eyes and I… I need to stop thinking so much. I blink out of his trance. I still lay facing him, him facing me. I give a little smile and smiles back. I watch him as his eyes close again, but longer this time. I think he's falling asleep… yeah, he is. Man, he is out cold… I raise a hand to ruffle his hair a little. Jesus Christ, whose hair is this fucking soft?! His hair still has bits of dirt and bark in it and looks more like he fell down a mountain than was tossed out of a car. I find myself stroking his right cheek, which is irritably soft and smooth. He's definitely out cold… doesn't even move. He just kind of lets me do whatever I want… I thought about _something_, but I shock myself and stick out my tongue in a disgusting motion. I could've sworn he just laughed and smiled, but maybe he's dreaming. I wonder what he could dream about that would make him smile like that…?


	2. Chapter 2

**Author: His Little LabRat**

**Story: How I Met Your Lab Tech**

**Chapter: Back In the Day – Part Two (Chapter 2)**

**Summary: How Nick really first met the DNA guru, Greg Sanders (But Nick doesn't really know that). (NickGreg friendship, preslash, slash, blah blah blah!)**

**Author's notes: Listening to music again, "Never Let Me Go" by Family Force Five (gives credit to the FFF, yay) and my long stream of songs by them on my history page, hahaha (yes, I give credit to bands for ideas for my stories…)! Thank you everyone! I hope you enjoy my story!**** (By the way when I wrote this, I kept thinking this: Greg Sanders – Fourteen-year-old Player. First preslash scene is in this chapter!)**

**Thanks goes out to: Family Force Five (for the music supply for non-boredom while writing) The Killers (for music supply) and my reviewers, for reviewing!**** Also, thanks to my mother, because she got me cough drops so I wouldn't die before finishing this story (huzzah)(yummy – it's cherry flavored but tastes like bubblegum)!**

_While also writing this story, I was listening to "The River" by Good Charlotte and loved how it fit this story… please listen to their song!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

_**Currently requesting a beta!**_

**June 1****8****th****, 1988 2:37 PM – Dallas, Texas**

I stepped slowly into the kitchen, seeing Meg sitting in a chair with a cup of coffee in her hands. She looked up to me with a little smile. Then, she gave me a questionable look.

"Where's Greg?" She asks, blinking at me.

I laugh. "Asleep," I laugh into answer, stepping forward to get a cup for some coffee. She rolls up her left sleeve to look at her watch. She goes wide-eyed shortly, then glances to me.

"But it's past two-thirty!" I laugh hard but silently.

"The kid can sleep, what can I say?" I laugh, then take a sip of coffee.

"Hey, how did you meet the young'n anyway?" She asks and I swallow hard, not typically ready to explain.

"Well…" I start, trying to conjure up the words. Out of nowhere I heard a loud _thump_ overhead and I look up. I immediately know the blond fourteen-year-old is awake, and probably fell out of bed. Laugh and Meg is startled, jumping back in her seat. I hear a creak of the floor board and I think he is actually _falling back asleep!_ I sigh a laugh, wondering to myself how in world he could fall back asleep after falling out of bed. I am laughing hard at the thought and Meg is giving me a spectacle look so I slowly stop, then laugh into my coffee as I start to take a sip. "I'll go check on him," I say, putting my coffee down on the counter and start out of the room.

Walking up the stairs, I hear a loud groan and I raise an eyebrow as I step up to look down the hallway into my room. I can't see him from here, so I start up again to go to my room. Standing in my doorway, I laugh hard as I see him folded over the edge of the bed. Head on the floor, legs on the bed, arms stretched out behind his head, feet up in the air on top of the bed, back over the edge so he curls onto the floor. It's a _very_ funny position and I'm cracking up but I slow as he opens his eyes with a little groan to look at me. He wiggles his fingers in hello, then they curl back up, motionless again.

"Thanks for the help," he groans, blinking, then looking to me again.

"Welcome, sleeping beauty," I laugh, leaning against the doorway to watch him lay there and not do anything. He intakes and breath and releases it in a long, quick breathy groan, eyes closed. He opens his eyes, blinking sleepily at the ceiling.

"I'm sleepy…" he groans and kicks off the edge of the bed to roll over and curls up on the rug above the wood floor of my room. I produce now what was a laugh and a sigh put together.

"How are you _still_ sleepy, child?" I ask him, raising an eyebrow as he practically twitches a shrug. I roll my eyes then as he sighs himself back to sleep (I think). I take a quiet step into my room, reaching over to grab a blanket off the end of my bed. I step over him, pursing my lips curiously. "Okay, _child_, if you are going to sleep the least you could do is have a blanket, and sleep on the bed." He groans as I drop the blanket on top of him. I give him a speculating look as he curls up under the now unfolded blanket and I can't help but almost giggle as I think of how much he looks like a bug. "You worry me, boy," I hear him give me a sleepy giggle in response. I give a little sigh, then turn to close my bedroom door. I stalk back and sit down next to him, knees extended and the bottoms of my feet pressed together. I purse my lips, wondering how long he can sleep. I see him peer out from the edge of the blanket and look at me. I just smile and he smiles back.

"I like to sleep," he informed me. "I've got nothing better to do anyway." I can still see him peer out from under the blanket to look at me.

"You can hang with me," I say and he snickers at me so I run my hand through my hair, wondering how messy it is. Looking across him to the full-body mirror – I look fine – then I look back to him. "Since you've got nothing better to do," I say, using a little, laughing and mocking tone to tell him. He laughs too and I smile.

"You're _silly_," he says almost childishly. Then again, he's only fourteen so I don't blame him.

"So I've been told," I smile, putting my hands on my feet, left on left and right on right, leaning over to him as he pokes out his head. I smile at him again and he smiles back. "So where exactly do your grandparents live, Greggo?" I add a little nickname to add comfort.

"You said we were in Dallas right?" He asks, sitting up slowly, the blanket over his shoulder. I somehow notice he's shirtless and I begin to wonder if he slept like that. He gives a little yawn and I nod. He gives me a tired look then says "Around." I imitate his look and he laughs.

"You're a giggly boy," I tell him, smiling softly with a gentle laugh.

"So I've been told," he smiles, imitating my comment from earlier. He smiles almost deviously, but it's so childish I just laugh. "Yeah, my mum used to tell me that too." He smiles softly at me, sticking out his tongue playfully.

"She sounds nice," I say and I don't know why I said it because he shrugged. "Do you know your grandparents' address?"

"Nope!" He smiles at me and I give him another speculating look. I stretch my legs out so my feet are facing him and he does the same, sitting back against the wall next to mirror as I lean back against the bed, putting our feet together.

"So you have no idea how to get home?" Dear God, even his feet are soft.

"Nope," he smiles at me, his feet against mine. I purse my lips.

"What am I gonna do about you, kid?" I ask. He may be three years younger than me, but he's still young.

"Nothin'," he says, sticking out his tongue in a pestering look.

"You hate me or something?" I ask, giving him a little smile and he smiles back.

"Nah, you're too cool," he says, grinning cutely.

I purse my lips but smile again. "So what will I do about you, G?" He shrugs then grins again. I hear the door click and we both look over to my door. I feel his toes curl on mine as he sees Meg, my sister, in the doorway. I smile and give a little wave as she gives us a curious look. She gives her head a little shake to stop herself from thoughts. Now she looks to Greg.

"Greg, would you like any breakfast?" She asks and he shakes his head three times, then smiles back at her after telling her no and thank you. "Nick?" She asks, turning her head to me.

"I'll pass," I say, shaking my head as well. Her eyes glance to our feet, still together, and lifts and eyebrow, her hand on the doorknob.

"Don't do anything… stupid or anything," Meg says and Greg shoots her a look of suppressed laughter.

"That's no _fun,_" he snickers, grinning cutely at her like a nine-year-old angel would. She raises an eyebrow but smiles back, then steps out, closing the door with her step. He giggles again as he curls his toes beneath mine, looking at me with a suspicious, almost devious smile. I smile back. God, this kid is weird…

But, I like him.

Next thing I know, he's sitting next to me, head resting on my shoulder. I almost jump when he turns to look at me and I feel him leaning against my side. "So… what should we do?" He asked me, and I thought I heard a devilish tone in his voice, but I'm guessing it was just me. Lots of things came to mind but I ignored them (well, I tried to anyway) and each time I got a nice paradigm in my mind. But, he's only fourteen so I skipped it instantly. I mean, he was a cute kid - he looked like a girl – but what I thought I would do was just _not…_

"First, we need to figure out how to get you home," I said and I think he sighed. I don't know, really, because I was… droned into my thoughts, I guess. "Then… we can go around town or something, get some lunch or dinner." I suggested and I felt him almost wince. Was it something I said? I don't know, it's probably just me. He blinked at me and I looked to him curiously. He grinned cutely for me and I felt my stomach churn awkwardly like something was… I don't know. I'm a teen, and apparently, I don't know anything. Which, is probably true? But, that probably isn't helping my situation anyway…

"Sure," he said. Man, this kid is weird. I can't help but think he has something for me… but that's the teen-most part of my mind just being a pervert like always… I think. He smiled at me again. Surely, this kid is insane. He's kidnapped and not afraid, found by me, follows me home because he has nowhere to stay or anything (I couldn't leave him!) and acts like we've been best friends since we were kids. He seems like that to me too, but I don't know. I'm insane… or at least, so I am told. He's still smiling and I feel absolutely awkward. He seems close to me, but I'm probably just going insane. Yup, just going insane. I smile back to him as I think that.

* * *

**June 1****8****th****, 1988 6:34 PM – Dallas, Texas**

Greg and I are walking out of a restaurant, Greg practically clung to my arm. We turn around a corner and pass through an alley, a shortcut I know of how to get back to my house quicker than walking along the highway that leads out of the suburban-most part of Dallas. We walking slowly, Greg's arm around mine like a nine-year-old clinging to his older idol of a brother. I can see two or three silhouettes ahead but I can't tell who, but I know they are up to no good automatically when I see one pull out a lighter. We draw closer to them and they eye us awkwardly while Greg eyes them suspiciously. I'd say they were suspicious too if I were any fourteen-year-old kid from California who doesn't know anybody and barely at all where he is.

"Stokes!" One calls in a mocking tone. I keep walking. "That your new girlfriend?" The same person calls to me and I stop to look at them, all laughing and sickly.

"Ha-ha, very funny, Professor Dickweed," I call back, imitating the idiotic look on his voice in a mock laugh. He snarls at me and steps forward. I smile and Greg turns around to look at the two of us. "You're _so_ fucking amazing you learned how to speak correctly!"

"Oh, yeah," the guy says, stepping up to me. He's about my height, but looks like he might be twenty. I instantly recognize him as one of those idiots my brother always told us about who he busted for smoking and doing cocaine. "I forgot you were _gay_."

"Oh crap," I laugh. "When did you find out?" I laughed, nudging my face forward in a sarcastic laugh. He snorts a laugh and pushed me back, Greg fumbling back with me. Greg lets go of my arm when I stumble backward though, and is then grabbed by the smoker, who pushes Greg to his face.

"How's it going, gay-boy?" He asks Greg and Greg pauses, then spits in his face.

"Fine, thanks for asking," Greg chuckles. "How's the rain down there?" He says, spits on him again then knees him in the stomach hard so he lets go of him. I instantly bolt toward the smoker, pressing my elbow out and ramming it into his stomach so he is flung backward into his two cronies. I reach for Greg's hand then bolt before they can recoil and get up. Bolting around a corner then down the street, crossing the street and slowing down now. Turning another corner onto my street, I notice I am still holding Greg's hand; but he doesn't seem to mind. His fingers are intertwined with mine in lock, and I feel a bit weird because he is three years younger. Still, he doesn't mind. He's watching me with those chocolate-green eyes, as if he is wondering what that was all about.

"Sorry about that, Greggo," I say with a gentle sigh. He shakes his head then looks at me again with a little smile.

"Nah," he says. "I don't mind but… what was that all about?"

"Well, I've been known to be interested in… guys as well as girls," I say, thinking he'd let go of my hand and give me a glare of disbelief. But, he doesn't, and he doesn't seem to mind either. "Since after I was nine, the other kids made fun of me for it. But, I didn't care, just always seemed to spit back insults of my own…" I still expected him to let go, but he hasn't seemed to loosen his grip yet.

"That's cool," he says and I eye him with suspicion.

"You're weird," I say but I lift an arm to give him a little hug with my free hand. "But that is something I like about you."

"Gee, thanks," he says sarcastically, laughing, smiling generously. I let go of his hand and droop it over his shoulders like friends would. I can see my house from here and I smile now, seeing Greg smile too. A silence falls between us as we walk now. I don't know what to say and I assume Greg doesn't either.

* * *

**June 1****8****th****, 1988 8:49 PM – Dallas, Texas**

I'm sitting on my bed now, waiting for Greg's obviously slow return. Meg told us both to go take showers and I took mine first, the white towel still draped over my head. I had told Meg that we would go walking again later but she, obviously, wouldn't and doesn't care much anyway.

I hear my door click open and I look up to see Greg. He's wearing an old pair of my pants that don't fit me anymore, shirtless, his dirty shirt folded over his arm, towel over his head like me. I look up to him and smile, seeing him smiling at me while he rubs the towel over his wet hair. He walks over and sits on the edge of my bed, folding his shirt in his lap and leaning over the front of my bed to place is on the whicker chest that lay directly in front of it. He turns to me and lays slowly down next to me. I watch him as he lays down. "How's it going, hopeless?" I ask and he smiles.

"Hopeless," he says, laughing. I laugh too. He turns onto his side and looks at me intently. I study him again, even though I know his figure and face by heart and could see him with my eyes closed. I lay down beside him silently, sitting up slightly with my elbows pressed back for support.

Greg curls up close to me and I don't see why, I'm not loveable. His cheek is pressed onto my chest and now I feel almost glad I'm wearing a shirt. I feel him open his eyes and he looks up to me, tilting his head back a little to look at me more fully. He blinks like he's intaking my image somehow. He pushed himself off me again and flopped down beside me again. I settle myself in and rolled the covers back over us. I settled in again and rolled over to go to sleep. However, Greg had different thoughts then I did.

"So…" he whispered to me. "Is everything bigger in Texas?"

I immediately open my eyes at the question. "Pardon…?" I ask him, and I see that he has rolled over so that there is about a three inch distance between our faces. I feel like blushing, but by the look on his face I'm not.

"Is everything bigger in Texas?" He repeats in a whisper to me.

"Yes… wait, no… I don't know!" I almost shout in my pondering whisper. "Why would it matter anyway?!"

"Well, my mom says that everything is bigger in Texas," Greg said and I knew he would ramble now. "I mean, my da was from Texas, giving my da was raised by my grandparents here, so she's always tell me "everything is bigger in Texas, sweetie." But, I always thought of my mum as more of a liar, so I never did know. So, _is_ everything bigger in Texas?" I gave him a spectacle look. Suddenly, I feel like the lip of my jeans is being pulled forward and I see him looking down. Now I actually am blushing hard as he says "So everything really _is_ bigger in Texas!"

"What the…?" I started out, and I feel my face flush insanely. "What do you think you're doing?! Are you mad?!" I shout at him, pressing myself up against the wall.

"What's wrong, Nicky?" Greg shrugged at me. "You're gay aren't you?"

"Wh-what does th-that have _anything_ to do with a_-anything?!_" I am pressed against the wall.

"I take that as a yes…" Greg mumbled to himself. "Well, mine as well come out of the closet…" he mumbled, or at least, I thought he mumbled. "I'm gay too!" I could feel my face flush out even more as he smiled sweetly at me. Does that mean…?! "And, to be blunt, I like you!" Greg giggled and I pressed myself farther against the wall as he slid up to me. I sprung up and flung myself off the bed and he peered over the edge after me. I was pressed against the door, into the corner behind my door, anyway. He crawled over the edge and the saying that kept popping into my head and my conscience said to me: "it takes two to tango!" I didn't agree with my conscience… at all. Okay, I admit, maybe I did… but… that was… oh my God! Now Greg is crawled over me, smiling deviously as he leans forward to my face, squirmed between my legs. I feel him grind hips with me and I turn my head away and he leans forward to lick my cheek. I feel my ears burn as he licked tenderly, leaving a little trail for the cold air to attack directly. He moved his lips over to mine and drew me into a kiss, sketching out his fingers in my mind as the scrawled up my sides, over my back, up the back of my neck to my hair, cupping the back of my head to press my further into the kiss. I was _drawn_ into him by his lead and I knew it. I knew it all along.

He split away from me only for a breath and I gasped for air, then quickly wrapped my arms around his back and pulled him back into me with the same strength and intensity he had.

I guess I wanted him too.

No… I want him too. And I know that now.

I was amazed by him. Pulled into him like that… our bodies and figures seemed to fit together like a puzzle, one of us the other half to the puzzle the other had put together. Our lips fit perfectly, like two puzzle pieces that belonged together. His body fit perfectly over mine, like it was absolutely meant to be that way. When he arched his back so I could press into him, it was snug, but a perfect fit.

He was the other half of my puzzle… and I know that now.


	3. Chapter 3

**June 19****th****1988 4:13 AM – Dallas, Texas**

That was too amazing for me to believe. Too phenomenal to put into words. Each time I'd try to put it into words in my mind, it comes around wrong, nothing like I remember. You can't put his beauty, his grace… my love, _his _love into words. It's impossible…

"Love" is a word. Words have meaning but are however meaningless… but "love" is different from other words. It is… because you _can't_ put it into words…

Now, I can't put this kid; this blond-haired, adorable, loving fourteen-year-old kid into words.

* * *

**June ****19****th****, 1988 8****:46**** PM – Dallas, Texas**

I think I am obsessed with him. With Greg Sanders…

I'm taking night classes for criminal justice now, to help people who might be in Greg's kind of situation. It may be the summer, but I still want to be a good student and help myself get through college faster. There aren't many kids in the class, but I don't really care. The class started at six PM and will end at nine PM, only Sunday through Thursday.

The teacher is standing in the front of the room, scrawling things along the board that I'm not really paying attention to. He's giving us acronyms but not really explaining them. Just writing them down and… _tap tap tap_… what? Oh, I'm just tapping my pencil, I do that when I am thinking too hard, how fun… _tap tap tap_… wait, that's not me. It's out of rhythm… nah, maybe it's just me. I think I'm out sync. Yeah, I am totally out of sync. I mean, I'm infatuated with a fourteen-year-old kid who is walking outside the window next to me… wait…!

I turn to the window. There's my blond lover, walking up to the window. He's about a hundred yards off and waving to me frantically. Maybe it's not _me_ who's obsessed, it's him… gosh, and I am stupid.

I turn back to the teacher to see if he notices but he's still writing acronyms on the board that I still don't understand. I glance back to Greg, mouthing to him "go away, Sanders!" He shakes his head and I give him a speculating look. He's determined…

Earlier today he said he wanted to go to the class with me. But, the class was only for sophomores to seniors. Greg was in high school, but he's a freshman, so he couldn't come to the class.

I heave a silent sigh then turn back to the board and start jotting down the acronyms on the board ad start attempting to listen to the teacher, mainly to get Greg off my mind. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see him press his back to the window then slide down the sit below the window, out of my view. He's lucky that I have almost ten minutes now left in class.

I check my watch. It reads eight five-nine. The other students are gathering their belongings but I don't care much – I only brought a notebook and a pencil. I bet Greg is still sitting under the window.

The teacher ushers us up as the bell rings in from the hallway. I grab my notebook and slip it into my messenger bag, slipping the single strap over my shoulders to hang off from my right shoulder to go down to hang by my left hip.

Greg chose my outfit today. Light green cargo pants that I haven't worn since who knows when, a very form-fitting black tank top and the black hoodie that I wore the day I found him, dog tags that I usually wear. When I say that he sounds like a lost puppy… how awkward.

I slip through the double doors that lead into the school with a flow of other students, but I slip to the left out of my high school. I counted the classrooms I walked by as I went past them, I don't know why, but I did. Walking up to the first window of the classroom I was in, I gazed around a bush to see a curled up Greg. He looked more like he was about to pounce on me and he probably was. He pursed his lips at me then sat up and slowly stood to hug me. He took my hand and we started off.

"Why'd you come?" I asked him. "I mean, I like you, but… it's nine at night and, Greg, you should be back at my house…"

"I just wanted to see you, Nicky," At least he wasn't lying about it. By the way he smiled I could tell. I don't he'd lie to me anyway, but whatever. Our hands swung back and forth as we walked.

"You know," I started. "We should go to the police, see if your grandparents have put up a missing persons or anything."

"I know," Greg frowned but he knew it would happen eventually.

"We'll go tomorrow," I said, looking to him. "We need to get you home sometime before you die," I told him and he frowned. I think he said "But I want to be with you forever." I don't know but I held his hand still. His hand was warm and soft and it seemed to fit perfectly in mine. I looked to him. He was looking at his feet. He usually did that when he was sad or whenever I mentioned something about him having to leave sooner or later. The silence around me was awkward and I just had to say something to cheer him up – I can't stand it when he was sad around me, I wanted to make him happy always. "I mean, someone must've loved you," I told him. He looked to me and I smiled with love to him. "But, not the way I do." He smiled and I raised a head to catch the side of his head and pull him close to give him a kiss to the side of his forehead. He grinned cutely, pressing his eyes shut as I kissed them. He smiled at me again when I pulled away from him, reaching over to hold his hand again.

* * *

**June 20****th****, 1988 2:27 PM – Dallas, Texas**

"Stokes!" A man from the check desk calls, giving a wave to me. He smiles and I smile back. "How's it going, man?" He comes over to me and claps me over the back and I laugh with him.

"Hey, Jeff!" I say back. I laugh with Jeff and Greg just looks at us funny.

I knew Jeff from a camp I did. Well, it wasn't really a camp, but whatever. Last summer, I had come in each day for training, like a cop did from the other half of his or her resume and employment. I had wanted to be a cop ever since I was little, and Greg only inspired me a little more… okay, a lot more, but that doesn't make a difference.

Jeff and I talked for a little while, Greg sitting quietly and listening to us talk. Finally, we got to the point where Jeff had to leave, he was getting of shifted. He waved goodbye and started down the hall to the left, waving and smiling to me and Greg both as he disappeared. I walked up to the desk and sat down behind the computer. I smiled to myself and cracked my fingers forward in a stretch. I almost had my hand on the mouse when Greg interrupted me.

"Is it really okay for you to be doing that?" He was leaning over the tall counter to look at me. I blinked at him and he blinked at me.

"Don't worry," I said. "I know everyone here, and they all know me," I assured. To be more assuring for me I had two or three people call my last name and I waved to them. Greg still wasn't assured by I didn't care. I just stuck my tongue out at him then reached for the mouse. In my classes last summer I learned how to use the Police computer servers. After a few minutes I got into the missing persons database. I typed in Greg's name and Greg watched intently. His name didn't come up in the Texas server. I switched over to the California server and searched his name. No missing persons came up but there was his passport identification. I turned to Greg, and shook my head and then closed the menu. I stood up and waved to a girl behind the reception desk across from us – Beth. She waved back and said "Hey, Nicky!"

"Beth, I need you to do a favor for me, if it's not too much trouble," I told her. She nodded and smiled. "Every once and a while can you search the missing persons database for a "Greg Sanders?"

"Why? Is this Greg missing?" Beth asked me. I could tell she didn't know him.

"Well, yes and no," I laugh at her. I pointed to Greg. "This is Greg Sanders," he waved to her with a smile. "He's missing from Dallas." I told her. She gave me an awkward, confused look.

"Nick, this _is_ Dallas!" Beth told me. Now I felt stupid.

"Oh, yeah, I know," I laugh, feeling insanely stupid. "I found him by where I live," she gave him an awkward, surprised look. "He doesn't know his way home, the dummy. He's only fourteen, anyway." Greg glared at me with a laughing smile. "And I don't know where he lives either."

Beth nodded to me. "Alrighty, Stokes," she said after her nods. "I'll call you if I find his parents,"

"Grandparents," I corrected.

"Grandparents, sorry," she smiled at me and waved as we turned to left. Greg was motionless at first, then turned to run after me.

* * *

**June 21****st****, 1988 7:58 PM – Dallas, Texas**

"Nicholas Stokes!" Meg roared and it rang past everything. She only said my actual name when she was pissed off. I jumped up instantly and ran down the stairs and bolted into the kitchen.

"Yeeees?" I asked, peering around the corner of the door to where Meg was. She had the phone in her hand and she hung it up and turned to me.

"The _police_ just called…" Her voice was wavering and I swallowed. She was glaring at me now. "And Nicholas Stokes, you have some explaining to do…"

Oh shit…

* * *

**June 21****st****, 1988 8:35 PM – Dallas, Texas**

I don't want to put that in words. Meg was mad but she understood. I mean, I couldn't have just left him out on the side of the road to die, besides… I love him.

I trudge up the stairs and turn down the hall into my room. Greg is sitting on my bed with his back to the door. He's shirtless and wearing a pair of my older pants that are too small for me. He turns to me and I closed the door as I stepped in. I trudged up next to the bed and wiped my hands across my face. I was shirtless as well, only in a pair of cargo pants that were surprisingly snug. I turned to Greg a little, not fully but so that I could see him out of the corner of my eye. I held my hands between my open legs, concerned.

"Greg…" I mumbled. My eyes stung when I had to say it. "They found your grandparents."


End file.
